


Halfway Human

by AVMabs



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: (implied) - Freeform, Alternate Universe - High School, Canon Disabled Character, Gen, Netball - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stress, ed needs to drop an extracurricular and so do i, school is pressure and pressure is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 14:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11209593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVMabs/pseuds/AVMabs
Summary: The one where Edward realises that he can't do everything at once, but not before the Director of the Debate Team imparts some home truths.





	Halfway Human

It happened at a sports meet – of course it happened at a sports meet, because of course Ed’s one reprieve from studying was the most stressful part of his week. He’d been on edge to start with, because he’d fucked up a calculation on his physics paper which had fucked up the rest of his answers – and it was just dumb. He’d put it in his backpack and tried to get on with his day – and quite successfully.

But then they’d gotten to the meet, and they’d been going over and over one drill for hours because first the Wing Defender hadn’t listened to instructions, then the Wing Attacker had started pissing around with the ball, and then the Goal Defender had inexplicably started to do both. So, they were redoing the drill for the fourth time that evening, and as Centre, Ed was in the middle of it all. It was ridiculous: it was November, for a start, so the lighting on the pitch came from a few floodlights, and it was cold.

And Ed’s automail was beginning to seize up from all the repeated throwing and running.

He faltered, slightly, as he dodged the Wing Attacker’s stupid footwork. “Wake up, Elric. I want to go home!” whined the Goal Keeper, and Ed shot him a dark look. He positioned himself, aiming the ball towards the Goal Attacker. He stood on his toes, ready to throw… and his arm wouldn’t let him throw the ball.

The Goal Keeper groaned. “Come on.”

Ed managed a feeble, one-armed pass, which was easily blocked by the Goal Defender, who gave him a little smile and threw it back to him so that he could redo the throw.

“That’s so pointless,” said the Goal Defender. “Elric obviously doesn’t care.”

And, with that, Ed tossed the ball to the side and stormed off the pitch. He needed – something – water, maybe, or coffee. He noted that he was shaking. Stupid fucking Goal Keeper – wasn’t like he was doing much, other than standing there and not blocking balls, just like he hadn’t in the last game, and the team had lost.

Stupid fucking Goal Keeper.

With a start, Ed found he was already in the auditorium’s foyer. That was fine – good, even. There was coffee, there. Ed took a cardboard cup with one shaking hand and tried to fit it into the guide for where coffee cups should, by rights, go, but every time he tried to set it down, he found that his hand would slip and knock it out of alignment once he began to pull it away.

A stupid, rational part of him told him that it didn’t matter – that it was just slightly off-centre, and that the coffee would slosh down the inner wall. But that part of him was stupid, because if he couldn’t align a coffee cup, how was he supposed to write physics papers and win netball games?  
He tried again.

“For fuck’s sake,” he hissed, and almost threw the cup to the side in frustration, but then the door to the auditorium swung open and a small girl Ed vaguely recognised from Advanced Biochemistry darted outside. She stopped short when she laid eyes on Ed.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Ed shrugged. “I’m fine.”

The girl looked sceptical. “You don’t look fine – maybe you should get some air.”

“Thanks, but I’m fine,” Ed repeated. He wanted the girl to go away.

And then the girl was pressing a cup of – water – into Ed’s hands; he hadn’t even heard the tap running. She fixed him with a stern glare. “I don’t think you should drink coffee right now,” she said, and then she gave the auditorium doors a nervous glance and darted back inside.

Ed stared into the water. There was a faint sheen of light on the surface where the artificial strips on the ceiling were glancing off it. It trembled in Ed’s hand, dancing some frantic jig.

The auditorium doors swung open, and Ed flinched. Oh. Evidently, the girl had fetched Mustang, because that’s who was coming out of the auditorium with concern crossing his features. Ed bowed his head, trying not to make eye contact.

“Hey,” said Mustang.

“Hey,” stammered Ed.

There was a moment of silence before Mustang levered himself onto the counter and sat, swinging his legs. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” said Ed. “Just being dumb.” And now his throat was closing, which was super dumb, because it was just one drill, and one physics paper, and two fake limbs setting him apart from his peers.

Mustang sat back. “It doesn’t look dumb,” he said.

Ed shrugged.

“I’m not going to play the guessing game with you,” said Mustang, “but if it’s that dumb, then I’m going to order you, as one of your teachers, to get back to where you’re supposed to be – netball drills, if I’m not mistaken?”

Ed pursed his lips.

“Okay, I’ll take you back to netball and you can push yourself through drills for the rest of the evening.”

Oh, Mustang was good. “I can’t,” said Ed. “My automail is seizing up.”

It was amazing how quickly a man’s face could change from ‘concerned’ to ‘worried’, especially when he’d gotten what he wanted. “Do you need to see the nurse – or maybe a doctor?”

Ed managed to snort at that, despite himself. “No, it’s not broken. It’s just sick of doing the same thing because the stupid netball team won’t acknowledge that we lost the last game and need to work.”

Realisation dawned on Mustang’s features, and damn the guy for working with kids, because it would be so much easier if this was just automail. “Pretty stressed out, huh?”

Stupid simple statement – and yet, Ed felt like continuing. “And of course, they can afford to fuck around because they can do the same thing over and over, but I physically can’t, and I need to not have to deal with this because I need to study, because university applications are due next week and I fucked up my physics paper.”

Water was beginning to spill over the sides of the cup and onto Ed’s hand, and he was glad he hadn’t managed to make himself a coffee. He vaguely heard Mustang’s feet hitting the floor as he tried to breathe away the lump in his throat, and was half-aware of Mustang teasing the cup from his hand and putting it on the counter.

“Take a minute,” said Mustang. “Breathe.”

As if that wasn’t what Ed was trying to do. He tried to remember – his therapist had said rhythms. Ed tried to block out any noise except the clock, which was ticking away. Tick… tick… tick… tick… in. It was easier here, quieter – and Ed didn’t like quiet and he couldn’t stomach the library for anything except finding books, but he needed the quiet now, and it was here.

Finally, he released one long, shaking breath, and looked up at Mustang. Mustang’s expression was neutral, as if he’d trained it into submission – and maybe he had.

Mustang hopped up onto the counter again. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” said Ed. “Yeah – sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” said Roy. “It sucks being different from everyone else,” he said. As if Ed didn’t know that. “You can take things at your own pace, though.”

But Ed couldn’t, because he had deadlines and things to do. “Sure.”

“Hey,” said Roy. “Ed – look at me.”

Ed did, and found that Roy’s expression was earnest and serious.

“I lost my old teaching job because every time a kid shouted, I would freeze up and I would try to find my gun.”

Oh. That was -… Were teachers supposed to disclose that kind of information?

“I applied here because it’s a little bit quieter, but there are bad days. You just need to get through them, okay?”

“Okay.” Ed didn’t get it – didn’t really know how to get through ‘bad days’.

Roy sighed. “I don’t want to leave you alone here, but I don’t trust Paninya to be in there unsupervised and not play vines to the other kids from my laptop – are you okay to be alone?”

“Yeah,” said Ed.

“Are you sure?”

This was dumb. Ed had said yes, so he was. “Yes,” he confirmed.

Mustang looked at him sceptically, but didn’t argue. “Alright,” he said. “If you need anything, come back here and find me.”

Right. Yeah. And Mustang headed back into the auditorium. Ed picked up his water to steel himself for telling Mrs Curtis that he couldn’t practice anymore tonight, and realised, as he looked down, that the sheen of light was no longer dancing.

**Author's Note:**

> im so tired


End file.
